waltzing matilda

Here's a little hard core truth for you this Monday morning.

I used to eat bugs.

It's true.  

When I was little my family lived in Australia. Let me show you where exactly.

See where it says "NOTHING"? Right there. That's where we lived. In the middle of the outback.

This is not my map. I don't think Australia is all that bad. I have rather fond memories of it. But I do think that the whole country looks upside down.  Is is just me? But then again, maybe they are upside down. Don't their toilets flush the opposite way? Maybe the equator is the only true right side up place to be. Wow. I'm confusing myself.

So yeah. We lived in Alice Springs.  And I was a scrappy little dirt monger.  Who ate bugs.  I think the aboriginal children taught me that.  I had lice and worms and the soles of my feet were like three inches thick with calluses because I never wore shoes. I was a virtual waltzing Matilda.

And I was happy.  I was a very very happy child.  My bum itched a little because of the worms, but other than that life was good.

And now I'm a mother. And although my first baby was kept hermetically sealed in a germ proof environment until the day I got a grip, I let my kids grub in the dirt on a regular basis.  Because I have this theory.

I think that maybe, just maybe, when a human being puts their hands in the soil of the Earth, it's transformative.  It's almost as if we soak up life the way plants do.  When a child is allowed to explore nature with all of their senses they are happier and more well rounded.  That's what I think anyway.

We don't live in an area where my children can roam free the way I used to.  This makes me a little sad. But we do have a big backyard and plenty of fun nature places to visit.  My kids are yet to have lice or worms but Frankie has been known to suck on a snail or two.  I think they are getting a fair dose of nature. And they seem like happy kids.

And I have another theory. I think it might have been the bugs that made me bionic. Yep, I definitely think it was the bugs.

Photo of me by Bubba-Loo

Waltzing Matilda

go towards the light mr. chirpy

 

Meet Mr. Chirpy by Secondsister

Mr. Chirpy flew in from who knows where two weeks ago.

If pressed to speculate, I would say he is probably from one of the Bible Belt states like Alabama or Mississippi where people really like to talk. Also, I have detected a slight twang to his vernacular.

Mr. Chirpy is single and unsatisfied. It's hard to form relationships when you travel as much as he does. And then there's the extra ten pounds he's been carrying, no doubt from eating on the road all the time. And also there is his awkward bumbling nature to take into account.

My best guess is that Mr. Chirpy heard about the large population of immigrants here in Southern California. No need to go all the way to Asia to find a mate. There are plenty of lookers migrating up and down the West Coast. Surely he could find a partner here. A little Latina maybe?

He could teach her American culture. She could teach him Spanish.

As my luck would have it, Mr. Chirpy took leave of his normal life to take up residence in my ornamental plumb tree. It has been very unpleasant for me to say the least.

Freed from his regular responsibilities, Mr. Chirpy has thrown himself full force into the night life of San Diego County. He's become a real night owl, a full fledged party animal, that one.

He gets things going around ten and he doesn't drag his pudgy little body back to the nest until the sun crests the horizon.

All through the midnight hours he serenades. He cat calls. He uses his entire repertoire to lure his little senorita.

I've come to hate Mr. Chirpy with all my being.

And although I have always been repulsed by the very idea of owning a gun, I'm a little tempted.

I think a b.b. gun would be just the thing. A few shots in the air, maybe one in his general direction, should be enough to scare this chatty squatter off my land.

But the problem is, not being a gun person myself, the problem is that I'm not a good shot.

And something might happen. Yes, I think something might accidentally happen.

So I want you all to know, dear readers, if something were to happen, if a bullet were to find its way to Mr. Chirpy's vocal cords, I would dash out of the house straight away (right after I found some plastic gloves of course), and hold Mr. Chirpy in my hands as he gasps his last breath.

And I would whisper softly in his ear, "Go towards the light Mr. Chirpy. Paradise awaits."

sweet sweet honey bees

MySpace Music Playlist at MixPod.com

I'm not a passionate person per say. I have a handful of things that I feel very strongly about. But they could all be listed on my palm with a Sharpie.

Family. Faith. Fashion. You know, stuff like that.

But political things boggle my mind and although I surround myself with opinionated people, I am usually reluctant to take a hard stand on things. I don't want to be like all the people walking around blabbing that the world was flat just before Magellan debunked the whole system.

I like to keep my options open. What's that about saying less and seeming smarter?

But I find that I have become down right passionate about the lowly plight of the honey bee. Did you know that they are dissappearing?

Antropologie recently got on board to shed light on the problem.

I just love Antro more and more.

Hagen Daz ice cream has been running a huge campaign to save the bees for a while now. You can read about what you can do to help here, on their site.

I thought I would start my own hive this past Spring, but instead of a queen bee, I brought home our little princess. The hive was put on hold, but not forgotten.

Maybe next spring...

Secondsister Honey. I like the sound of that.

wild child

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature."- Anne Frank

As a parent, I want my son to experience all kinds of different things in his life. I want him to eat sushi and chew on tree sap until it turns to gum. I want him to feel snowflakes on his face and salt water up his nose. I want him to know how a GPS and a handheld compass work. In short, I want him to experience his life fully, to be able to look beyond the bleakness of modern life and embrace the inherent beauty that surrounds us.

I bought this book for Sugar Daddy for Christmas.

I found it on my friend's reading list, and being the Survivor Man that he is, I knew my husband would love it.

He does.

The boy went skiing for the first time yesterday.

He fell down A LOT. And I'm glad that he did. It teaches him perseverance.

At times I am sad that I live so far away from my family. It would be so nice to see them more often. But then I am reminded just how lucky I am. My son will grow up knowing about the ocean and the beach, and when we make our pilgrimages to my parents house he learns about snow and mountain life. Hopefully we can give him the experiences he will need to be a well rounded, happy adult.

Survivor Man Dad has specific plans to start the wilderness indoctrination as soon as possible.

on the way. . .

Photo taken at Tlaquepaque.

Today I am on the road, headed home. Sedona has been wonderful. The boy has spent quality time with his Grandad, communing with nature. We shopped all the best jewelry places. We ate pizza in Flagstaff. My work here is done.

On the road to Flagstaff

Don't forget, you still have today to leave a comment on the previous post and enter to win the drawing! The winner will be announced tomorrow morning.

blanche on a branch

Nothing says spring like a little bird singing away on a branch.

Blanche on a Branch